Captive Ride(46)

My sudden boldness is replaced by awkward discomfort. Michigan settles me into his side.

“You sharing?” the man asks.

Michigan places a hand on my neck. “No.”

No argument. No explanation. Just no.

The guy stands there and stares, his eyes taking off my new clothes and it makes me feel kind of dirty and not in a good way. Michigan takes a menacing step forward and he runs off.

“Sometimes fantasies work real well in your head and not so great playing them out.” Michigan continues to hold my neck, massaging me into a relaxed puddle of flesh. How he reads me so well continually is a surprise.

“How do you know which fantasies work and which don’t?” I ask. He hoists himself onto the table and pulls me onto his lap. I curl up like a kitten and rest my head against the broad wall of his chest.

“You test them out, just like we did here.”

“I wouldn’t want to share you and Easy with anyone but you’d be okay with me dancing nude in front of others?”

“Not really. I’d probably have to have one of the brothers sit on me, but these are your fantasies and I want you to enjoy yourself. Ultimately, you getting turned on would probably turn me on.”

“I was jealous of the attention those girls were getting, I guess. I’ve never been looked at like that.”

“Being watched is a turnoff for lots of folks and there are some, like Easy, that really get off on watching. Nothing wrong with either thing. But the only person I’d ever share with is Easy.” He rubs a hand down my back and continues thoughtfully, “I don’t even want a woman touching you. Having you dance? Having other guys look at you? If that made you feel good, then sure, but touching belongs to me and Easy, yeah?”

I like his possessiveness mixed with his willingness to see me satisfied but I really only would ever need their eyes, their lust and their attention. “Yeah.” I echo his words but put all my conviction behind it. Even in the dark, I can see the answering spark in his eyes. Our connection isn’t broken even when he pulls out his phone, and types something one-handed.

Easy appears as if Michigan conjured him.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Not staying?” says one of the men.

Easy takes one look at me and shakes his head. “Our girl’s worn out.”

“Thought you guys were Death Lords, not Bedlam Butchers,” jokes someone.

“Can you read?” Easy asks, his good humor gone.

“Yeah.”

“Then you know what club we’re with.”

The hecklers shut up immediately and don't say another word as we exit.

“Who are the Butchers?” I ask as I buckle my helmet on.

“Good club out of New Mexico. They’re into sharing. Do everything in pairs.”

“But we’re Death Lords.”

“You’re mine,” I say unthinking.

Michigan and Easy exchange a look. “Yeah, we are.”

When we get back to the room, Easy directs me to take a long bath. He walks in and tosses the leather chaps and a T-shirt on the sink.

“Why don’t you model these for us.”

After I dry off, I realize that the chaps have a waistband and legs but the front of my pelvis and my butt are totally exposed. I search around but find no panties, only the dark gold T-shirt. I don't believe this is a test but an invitation to play and so I screw up my courage and don the chaps and T-shirt. Straightening my shoulders, I walk out as normally as a woman who is totally exposed in her privates can.

In the bedroom, Michigan and Easy are sitting side by side on the sofa. Halfway across the room, the music starts and I catch on. This is my show, if I want to do one.

I start to sway, hoping I don’t look like a fool. Encouraged by their appreciate gazes, I run my hands along my sides and up to catch my breasts. I cup my breasts and then lift the T-shirt off so all I’m wearing is the leather chaps. I slink to the ground and then back up, turning, bending over.

I'm rewarded with swift intakes of breath and when I spin around I see their glittering gazes and the large ridges in their jeans. Their approval emboldens me and I fall into the sexy music. I touch my nipples, stretch my arms above my head, arch my back and then drop my hand between my legs where I'm already ready and wet.

“Place your hands on my legs here and point that ass toward Michigan," Easy orders. Michigan has resettled into the desk chair which he wheels over to the sofa.

I lean over, knowing my ass is entirely exposed. Michigan smooths his hands over my globes and then with a hard push directs me toward Easy's now exposed penis. I lick it from tip to base, tonguing the heavy veins. Michigan lifts me so that my knees are on his legs.

"Take him deep." Michigan's voice is dark and throaty but he has no more orders because his tongue is making long treks between my legs.